Dawn Of The Winchester
by loveintheimpala
Summary: "When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the Earth." Dean wakes from a coma to find the world around him a very different one to what he had known. His brother and sister have long since vanished, leaving nothing more than a cryptic note in their wake, and he has no idea how to find them, what is happening around him, or how to survive it.
1. The Beginning Of The End

_Welcome to my new Fanfiction!_

 _After finishing Goodbye Is Never Forever I wanted to start something new. I was given a prompt for this story by the ever wonderful Winchestergirl67, and I finally got the idea of how to start it off while watching 28 Days Later, which, if you haven't seen, is a great movie. I know it's cliché and I know I'm lame, but I had to write it. So, I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think. There will be death, fair warning. I can't say who yet but it's going to crush us all when it happens. I have my victim in sight. This story has absolutely nothing to do with the show, and so is completely away from any season story line. But, for arguments sake, it's set during season eight. But, like I said, it doesn't tie in with the show, at all. Well, it does. Ish. A tiny bit. But not until about chapter nine. _

_Danielle is the middle child. Which means she's two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam._

 _Updates are going to be every Friday!_

 _I think that's everything, if not please feel free to PM me, I always love to hear from you guys!_

 _Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! — Kara._

* * *

"When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the Earth."

Dean wakes from a coma to find the world around him a very different one to what he had known. His brother and sister have long since vanished, leaving nothing more than a cryptic note in their wake, and he has no idea how to find them, what is happening around him, or how to survive it.

* * *

 **Dawn Of The Winchester**

 **Chapter One: The Beginning Of The End**

 _Cemetery — Wyoming — 01:12 AM._

The three Winchesters approached the locked gates of the graveyard, silent and resolute.

Through the rusted, antique bars and the leaves that wound their way around them, they saw the death that unknowingly awaited them. It walked over the graves without feeling or remorse, and it gave no acknowledgement to the engravings dedicated to the deceased. It didn't notice, and it didn't care. It didn't feel, and it didn't think. It was, quite simply, dead.

The smell of the earlier rainstorm and wet soil filled the air, and the cool wind nipped at their skin as they looked on at the scene before them. Gravestones were planted neatly in rows. Some were crumbled after decades of withstanding the harsh winters, and some were new, smooth and polished stone with words that would still shine in the sunlight. Yet all had one thing in common, the grass atop them — overgrown and unkempt, void of flowers or tributes, and it suddenly became apparent that their mourners had all long since joined them in their fate. And that they were the ones who now paced over the plots of their loved ones without thought or realization.

Amidst it all they could see the impossible task that lay ahead of them — a sea of the dead. They were everywhere, lurking and waiting, hundreds of them, and there was only one thing they wanted — their flesh. They moaned at the stench of blood in the air, their teeth were stained with deep crimson and their bodies were rotting away as they paced without direction.

Dean gave a short, steady breath, because things were not looking good for any of them at that point. He knew the odds were stacked against them, they always had been, and the chances were that none of them would come out of the other side of it alive. But what choice did they have? After everything that had happened, after everyone and everything they had lost over the past few weeks, their friends, their family, this was their one chance to make it right. This was how they could fix it.

This was their chance to save the world.

He looked between his siblings and offered a shrug. "Are you ready for this?"

Sam gave a firm nod, determined, and Danielle, despite everything, cracked a smirk, more for his benefit than her own.

It was now or never, life or death, the one chance they had to end it all. They had to take it.

"Let's do this."

* * *

 _Three months earlier._

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — 17:23 PM_

Falling back into consciousness could be a strange thing.

It was a slow process, and, as reality seemed to suck him back towards itself, Dean Winchester wasn't all that sure of his surroundings. He wasn't sure that he was even awake, but he could think, that much he knew. And that was a start. He couldn't open his eyes, finding them too heavy, as though they had been glued together. He couldn't remember what had happened to him before he had given into his slumber. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there. But he was lying in a bed, that much he could tell. It crossed his mind for a short moment that he might be dead, because he sure as hell felt it. His head ached, and there was a pounding against his skull that almost outweighed the ache in the rest of his body. _Almost._ But, no. That couldn't be it.

Could it?

Internally, he groaned, and he couldn't tell if the sound had left his body. If this was another motel room and another hangover he was just about done, with everything. He couldn't take it again. It was becoming an all too familiar feeling to him.

As he shifted slightly, things around him became a little more certain, and he was suddenly much more aware of his surroundings. He felt how scratchy the sheets draped over him were against his bare forearms. He could feel the uncomfortable mattress beneath him, propped up beneath his head in a way they did nowhere else. And then there was that familiar smell of disinfectant that invaded his nostrils. It gave away _exactly_ where he was. Even without opening his eyes, Dean already knew precisely what he was going to see in that room.

Or so he thought.

It was _always_ the same. _Every single time._ The usual scene he woke up to was his brother and sister. The concern was always so evident in his brother's hazel eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and fixed upon him as though he had forgotten how to blink. There would always be a frown on his face, and he was always just waiting to chastise him for whatever stupid thing he had done to land himself in that bed. One of his sister's hands would always be holding his gently as she waited on him to wake up, and her other would hold her seventeenth cup of coffee as she willed herself to stay awake just that little while longer. Her perfectly waxed eyebrows would be knitted together in concern, anxiousness, and worry.

But, this time, there was none of that. This time, he woke up alone. That had never happened before.

Curious, and finding a little more strength somewhere within himself, Dean managed to crack open his eyes. His sight was blurred, almost as though he was looking at the world through someone else's glasses. He could barely see anything at all. He blinked hard in an attempt to steady his broken vision, and, gradually, everything became so much clearer. The room was empty but for him, and something about it all was so different. It wasn't just the fact that his brother and sister weren't there, it was something more.

Something just felt wrong.

The lights above him were turned off, and the only source to brighten the room came from the window to his left. The window which, he noted, was boarded up with wooden planks, as if to keep something from getting inside. There was a gun lying on the small table beside his bed, and next to it was a shotgun. His eyes fell to the table towards the side of the room, it was piled with ammunition, enough to take out an army. It occurred to him, was that supposed to be left lying around in a hospital? What was happening? He pushed himself to sit up, and he tried to ignore how his body ached as he did. How long had he been there? Why was he there?

Dean glanced up at the machines behind him, and he frowned, they were turned off. Without a second thought he ripped the needle in his arm out, and he tossed it aside carelessly. It was as he pulled a hand down his face and focused his attention a little more that something else caught his eye. There was a scrap of paper laying atop the shotgun, and, even through the poor light, he could see that his name was written on the back of it. As he reached for it, he knew, this wasn't going to be good. Even he noticed how his hands were shaking slightly as he unfolded it, and he had to wonder why he had been admitted to hospital in the first place. Because he sure as hell couldn't remember.

Immediately, he recognized the neat handwriting that covered the page.

 _Dean,_

 _I don't know if you're ever going to read this, I hope you will. Things are getting bad out there. Like, really bad. And, I'm sorry we had to leave, we held out for as long as we could, but we couldn't stay there any longer. You're safe in that room, we made sure of it, but you can't stay in there forever, and something tells me that you won't try anyway._

 _But, you need to be prepared. We don't know how many of them are going to be out there when you wake up, but we think we've left you enough ammo to fight your way out. At least, I hope we have. These things aren't like anything we've ever seen before, they're bad news, it's way out of our league, and it's spreading fast. Too fast for us to control._

 _If you are reading this, come and find us. I don't know where we're heading, I don't know where's safe, if anywhere is, and I don't think we have a plan. But you know my number. Call me. Don't let these things bite you, and aim for the head. That's the only way we've found to take them out._

 _If anything happens between me writing this and you reading it, just know that I'm so grateful for everything you ever did for me. And the only reason I made it as long as I did was because of you._

 _Please, be careful. And be safe._

 _Danielle._

Dean blinked, hard. He read the note again and again, trying to make some sense of it, but he couldn't. He was safe in that room but he had to fight his way out, what did that mean? Who, or what, was he supposed to be fighting? What was happening outside of that hospital room? He looked between the collection of weapons and ammunition to the boarded up window with a frown. What had they been trying to protect him from? What was out there waiting for him, ready to bite? What were his brother and sister running from? What had put them in such a hurry to leave? And, why hadn't they taken him with them? What could have been so bad that they couldn't wake him up and drag him to the car with them?

But then his eyes fell to the machines that had been attached to him, and he knew. Whatever he had been there for, they hadn't been sure that he was going to survive it. He didn't know how long he had been there or why, and for all he knew the note could have been a year old and they could both be dead. He looked back to the words, and he gave a short shake of his head. It was as though she had been trying to say goodbye, without actually saying it. She had written it as though she had assumed she was going to be dead by the time he read it. Either that, or she assumed he would be dead before he found them.

Something about that was wrong.

Danielle didn't think like that, about anything. That was how he knew, whatever was going on out there had to be serious, and it had her scared. It had her worried enough that she thought she had to say goodbye to him before she had faced it without him.

Had they been on a hunt that they wanted him to finish? Or had something really gone wrong for them? What did she mean when she said that it was spreading? What was spreading? Did he have some kind of disease? Was it even safe for him to leave that room? Where were the doctors? Or the nurses? Were they all boarded up in rooms, too?

There was a pile of clothes lying on the chair in the corner of the room, and, by the way they were folded neatly, with the way that his favorite jacket was laying at the bottom, he knew instantly that his sister had been the one to leave them there. What could have been so bad that they had to barricade him into a hospital room and leave him there unconscious?

Slowly, reluctant to move too fast, he climbed from the safety of his bed, and he felt how unsteady he was on his bare feet. He still didn't know why he had been in the hospital in the first place, but, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was more than aware that he was in no fit state to fight off whatever army was waiting for him outside of that door. Still, he made a move towards the chair and picked up the pile of clothes with a sigh, determined to get out of there, desperate to find out what had happened, and what was going on. More than that, he wanted to find his family.

Dressed and loaded with ammunition, Dean took a short, steady breath as he came to a stop before the door. He couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to face on the other side of the wood, but he couldn't wait around in that room forever to find out. He needed answers, and he needed to find Sam and Danielle. With that thought in mind, he brought up his leg and kicked hard against the door, breaking through the barricade at the other side.

This was it. This was his escape.


	2. The New World

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter, and I was genuinely overwhelmed by the number of PM's I was sent. I absolutely love to chat to you guys, you give me inspiration and keep me writing. So thank you to all my new FF buddies!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Dawn Of The Winchester**

 **Chapter Two: The New World**

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — Five Weeks Earlier_

To say that Danielle Winchester didn't like hospitals was an understatement. A _massive_ understatement.

The fact of it was, she hated them. More than anything. To her, a hospital only meant one thing; a hunt had gone wrong and one of them was in bad enough shape that they couldn't fix it between themselves. Knife wounds, bullets, concussions, even a few broken ribs, to them it was nothing that couldn't be solved by some motel room first aid and a bottle of whiskey to take away the edge, but sometimes it was bad enough that even that wasn't enough. Sometimes it was bad enough that they needed help.

Just the word hospital was enough to make her feel slightly queasy, and, not long ago when Sam had choked out the word while bundling their brother into the back of the Impala, urging her to drive, she had felt that familiar dread in the pit of her stomach.

And, yet, that wasn't even the worst part. It wasn't the panic or the fear that bothered her most. The thing Danielle hated most about hospitals was the waiting, not knowing if someone was going to live or die, the way she had felt ever since the day her brother had been admitted there.

Her mind wandered back to a couple of weeks earlier, when she had been standing in the waiting room doing all she could to remain inconspicuous, as though she could fade into the dull white walls behind her and somehow escape the looks of sympathy people just kept on throwing at her. But that time had passed. Now, she would have given anything to see a nurse or a doctor to give her some kind of news, but she knew that there were only three human beings left in the whole building, and she was one of them. There was no one left there to help them, only evil.

To her, a hospital was nothing more than a dismal and depressing place that no one in their right mind should want to spend any more time in than what was absolutely necessary. But this time it was different. This time, it was so much worse. Because she could still hear the last words the doctor had said to her before he had been killed right in front of her; _I'm sorry, I can't tell you if he's going to wake up, but I'd prepare yourself for the worse._ Everything after that had been death and blood and fear and panic.

That was the exact moment she saw the world crumble.

Danielle hadn't said a single word in almost an hour. Sam hadn't seen her move, hadn't seen her breathe, he hadn't even seen her blink. She looked vacant, empty, as though she had long since checked out of her own body. Her green eyes were fixed solely to her elder brother, and there was a blankness behind her stare that he just didn't recognize in her. In all the years that they had hunted together, in the lifetime he had known her, he had never seen her look so beaten, so hopeless, do despondent. One of her hands still held Dean's in a loose grip, and her thumb traced absently over the back of his hand, over and over, as though she believed he could feel her comfort. For all he knew, she did.

Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime of her being locked away in her own thoughts, she sat back in her seat with a defeated sigh. She pulled a hand through her long hair and shook her head. He couldn't quite work out the look on her face, or what she seemed to be thinking so hard about, but there was something swimming in her green eyes that didn't fill him with confidence.

"I am not leaving him, Sam." she resolved, her words firm, determined, as though to deter him from arguing with her. "There's nothing more to talk about."

Sam shook his head at her, exasperated, and he pulled a frustrated hand down his face. They had been arguing about the same thing for hours, and he was getting nowhere. He looked back to their brother, and he knew he had to keep calm. He had been the same way for almost three weeks now, lying in a hospital bed and only breathing on the support of the many machines he was attached to. It was hard for both of them, and he knew what he was asking of her was way too much, but she didn't seem to understand it was the only way any of them could survive what was happening outside of that room. The reality hadn't seemed to hit her yet, or it had and she was simply choosing to ignore it. He couldn't decide. He wasn't sure she knew herself.

"Danielle, if you take him off that machine he is going to die." he told her bluntly. "There's no other way around this."

Her eyes flickered towards him, for the first time in a long while, angry and offended, and for a second he could have sworn that she was fighting back tears. "Then I'm staying." she concluded. She sounded tired, drained, as though she had long since given up on any idea of survival. "Simple as that. You wanna go, I won't stop you."

"The hell you are." he exclaimed. There was a frown on his face that dared her to challenge him, but she wasn't ready to back down, either. However tired she was, she was more than ready to fight him on it, and he was more than aware of that. "We need to leave."

"Sam, I said no." Her voice remained calm, collected, though the words were pushed out through gritted teeth, and he knew her anger wasn't going to stay so well hidden for much longer. "We can't just walk out and leave him like this. He won't last five minutes." She looked back to him, and she looked nothing but betrayed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I am trying to keep you alive." he snapped, impatient. "What are you gonna do, huh? Sit here and wait to die yourself? Because, if you stay here, that is _exactly_ what's going to happen."

Danielle thought on his words for a long moment, and she nodded slowly. "And if that was you lying in that bed, do you think Dean would be so ready to just run out and leave you there?" she challenged. "Because I don't."

"I think Dean would get you somewhere safe. Which, if you stopped acting so friggin' stubborn, you'd see that's what I'm trying to do." he countered, defensive. "Every minute we spend in this room we are drawing them here. We're putting him in more danger."

Danielle shook her head at him, despondent. "I can't leave him, Sam." she said quietly, her voice little more than a whisper. She knew deep down that he was right, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away from her own brother, especially in the state that he was in. She had spent almost every waking moment since he had been admitted to the hospital sitting by his side and waiting on him to wake up, how could she walk away from him now, after everything? It was dangerous, it was cruel, and she knew once they left that room there was a good chance they'd never see him again. Her gaze found his, and this time she couldn't hide the tears that glistened in the green depths of her eyes. "Don't make me do this."

It was a plea, and he sighed. He felt for her, he really did, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave his own brother, but he knew they had no choice. He knew that Dean would have told him the same thing had he been awake to do so. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry for this." he told her simply, apologetic, genuine. "I really am."

Danielle looked up to him again, as though confused by his words, anticipating his next move, and he gave a sorrowful sigh. Nothing between them would ever be the same again.

* * *

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — 19:03 PM_ _— Present._

Dean stood there for a long moment, his gun aimed at the open doorway, ready to fire. But nothing happened. After reading his sister's note he had been more than expecting something to leap out and attack him the moment he had kicked it down, but he was met only with silence. He waited and waited as the dust seemed to settle, and he never heard a sound. Cautiously, confused, he stepped from the room, not sure what to expect, but the scene before him was something he could never have anticipated.

The hospital was nothing like he had ever seen before. It was abandoned. The lights were turned off, and it was hard to see much without the aid of any windows on the long corridors. Through the dim light he could make out the scattered papers covering the floor, the abandoned jackets on chairs, bags left as though they had been the last concern of whoever had owned them. It didn't make sense. What had happened there to make everyone run so fast, to make his siblings run so fast? He didn't want to imagine.

Wary, he walked the halls of the hospital in silence, and the only sound was the repeated thud of his boots on the hard floor as it echoed off the walls around him. The floor was stained with pools of blood, as were the walls, it was everywhere. The place looked like a murder scene. But something struck him as strange, among the gore and clear signs of attack, there were no bodies. There were no people. It was as though everyone had just vanished into thin air. How could a hospital be so void of life?

Way past the point of concern, and wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of that building, Dean ran down a flight of stairs. He came to a fire exit at the bottom, and he took a breath before he opened it and stepped outside. Despite the lateness in the day, the sun was bright in the sky above, and the warmth of the outdoors hit him immediately. The hospital had been cold, eerie, dark, but the outside was refreshing. Or so he thought. Because the cautious optimism had been extinguished almost as quickly as it had sparked.

There was still something wrong. Very wrong.

The scene before him was like something from a movie. There were dead bodies laying in the street and no one seemed to have given it a second thought. The streets were trashed. There were cars abandoned in the middle of the road, doors wide open and radios still sounding static over the street. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened there. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

There was no sign of life anywhere. Where the hell was everyone? Who was he supposed to be fighting? Or, rather, what? His sister had left a note to say she didn't know how many of them were going to be out there when he woke up, but how many of what? What had she been expecting him to find out there? And where were they? He continued on his way, unsure of where he was headed, unsure of where he was, and shook his head to himself, gun gripped in his hand. It occurred to him, he didn't even know the name of the town. Or, for that matter, the state.

Dean walked and walked, to where, he wasn't sure. He passed countless bodies on the street, each seeming bloodier than the last. It was congealed and cracked, and he knew that they had been dead for a while. He paused as he stumbled upon the body of a man, and he didn't look to be much older than himself. He lay on the road, his unseeing eyes stared up at the blue sky and were wide and filled with the fear of his final moments.

Blood covered his shirt, and, as Dean leaned closer, he saw the flesh of his neck appeared to have been ripped out. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn it looked like an animal bite. He found himself beginning to wonder if anyone had survived whatever had happened. But then his eyes fell to a man at the other end of the road. It was the first person he had seen since he had woken up, and he was more than prepared to ask him, a stranger, for some answers. He wanted to know what was going on, what had happened, and he wasn't going to be picky about where those answers came from anymore.

As Dean approached, he slowed down. There was something about the man, something about the way he walked. He dragged one leg along with him, as though it was broken, but it was like he hadn't even noticed. There was blood on the back of his shirt, and on the back of his jeans. He passed him, warily, keeping a safe distance between them, and frowned as he saw his face. His skin was withered and split, it almost looked as though he were rotting on his feet. His eyes were white, and Dean's were wide. He looked dead. For a moment, Dean considered the idea that he was.

"You alright, man?" he pressed, cautious, because he didn't like the look on his face on bit. "Dude? You hearing me?"

The sight of him seemed to spur the man on. His arms outstretched towards him and his pace quickened. He looked driven, determined. The gun was gripped in his hand, aimed at him and ready to fire, but he wasn't sure that he could do it. He didn't know what this thing was. For all he knew this guy was a human, just a sick human being. Or maybe he was the thing that Danielle had been warning him about? How could be be sure? What was he supposed to do? The man kept coming, and he wasn't slowing down. He had to do something, because he wasn't sure he liked to think what would happen should this man actually get his hands on him.

But before Dean had the chance to even think about pulling the trigger, something stopped him. Seemingly out of nowhere a man appeared behind the thing, and he sliced through it's neck with a machete. His face was calm, stoic, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Dean considered the idea that he was another hunter, that he knew something that he didn't. He stood and stared at him, shocked, not knowing what to say.

"You don't wanna shoot 'em." The man told him simply. "Draws too much attention. More will show. Before you know it you'll have an army on your ass." Dean narrowed his eyes, opening and closing his mouth, more than confused. "Hey, you okay, man?" he persisted, as though concerned, taking a wary step towards him.

Dean seemed to snap out of it, and he nodded. "Do you know what's going on here?" he pressed. "I mean, what the hell has happened?"

The man regarded him for a long moment, as if debating whether he could trust him. "You been bitten, kid?"

The comment took him by surprise, and he thought back to his sister's note. _Don't let them bite you._ He still didn't understand. "Bitten?" he frowned. "Bitten by what? What the hell is going on?" His eyes fell back to the body. "What are these things?"

The man frowned, studying him. "I think you need to come with me." he stated. "Before it gets dark. You stand no chance in the dark."

With that, the man turned from him and set off down the street. For a long moment Dean watched after him, debating the idea. What else was he supposed to do? He had no idea what had happened, what was going on around him, what these things were or what they wanted. This was the first real living person he had seen since he had left the hospital. Dean needed answers, he needed time to come up with a plan, and he needed a minute to sit and understand what he was going through. He saw no other option.

Despite what reason told him to do, and against all his better judgement, Dean followed him. To where, he didn't know.

* * *

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — 19:46 PM._

Dean followed the man through the streets in silence. Between him killing that monster on the road and them arriving back at his home, they hadn't seen much of anything. Or, anyone. There had been a couple of those things on the streets but the man had simply bypassed them, never saying a word and never looking back. He walked fast, determined. Dean wasn't sure why he hadn't killed them, if there was a reason behind it, but he didn't speak a word, he wasn't sure he was in a position to anymore.

The man knocked on the door of the house before them, a knock too random for it to have been random, and he waited. The lock on the other side clicked and the door was pulled open. Behind it stood a boy who didn't look to be out of his teenage years, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was tall and thin, and he glanced between them, confused.

With a short nod of confirmation from the man before him, the boy stepped aside, and Dean followed him inside. The house was dark, and all the windows and other doors had been boarded up, the same as his hospital room had been. Whatever these things were, people seemed keen to keep them out. He noticed that the windows were painted over black, and no sunlight could get through them. The only source of brightness came from the few candles scattered around the room, and he found himself wondering if that was deliberate or out of necessity. Was it to stop the things outside from seeing in? Or to stop those inside from seeing out?

Dean didn't have time to dwell on the idea, because the man rounded on him. He set the bloody machete in his hand down on the table in the center of the room, and his eyes narrowed. "What's your name, son?"

It took him a moment to react, but Dean looked up to face him. "Dean." he stated simply. "Dean Winchester."

The man nodded. "I'm Mark." he introduced himself. The door behind him creaked, and they both turned at the sound. The young man who had opened the door to them stepped out, a young boy behind him. "These are my boys," He stepped towards them. He clapped the elder boy on the shoulder. "My sons, Nick, and this," He gestured to the younger boy. "This is Sam."

Dean smiled a little, somewhat awkward, because even he wasn't sure what he was doing there. "Hey."

They both nodded at him, seeming a little wary, and Dean couldn't blame them for a second. "Nick, take your brother upstairs." Mark instructed. Nick nodded, and without another word the two boys disappeared from sight. "So, what happened to you?" he pressed curiously. "How do you not know what's happening out there?"

Dean frowned, as though he wasn't sure how to answer. "I was in the hospital." He shrugged. "I woke up today. My room was boarded up, I don't even know how long I was in there." He thought back to his siblings. "Hey, do you have a phone I can borrow?"

There was a frown on his face at the question. "Son, there ain't no phones anymore. They're all down." The concern seemed to be increasing in him by the minute with every question he was asked. "You really have missed it all. What's the last thing you remember?"

Dean thought, hard. He searched the deepest corners of his mind, desperate. He didn't know. Had they been hunting something? They had to have been. Why else would they have been there? He tried to think, and something came to him. Demons. They had been tracking a demon. And they had found it. They had trapped it. He remembered the sound, the rattle of the spray can before he had drawn the trap out in red on the wooden floor. He remembered Sam chanting an exorcism, and he remembered Danielle screaming. Why had she been screaming? She had been looking down at him, shouting his name, her blonde hair hanging down over her shoulders and fear shining in her green eyes. That was all he could remember. He didn't know anything else. He remembered nothing more after that.

"June." he muttered, absent. "Beginning of June."

"Son, it's July eighteenth." he stated, eyebrows furrowed together.

"July?" He frowned, that couldn't be right. There was no way he had been out of it for so long. "What the hell happened?"

Mark shook his head, as if to say he didn't know where to start. "It started off small, you know? Few reports on the news of people going crazy, attacking people. They thought it was some kind of virus. But it spread, fast. And suddenly it wasn't something people were watching on the news, it wasn't something people were talking about at the store, it was on the street. It was on our doorsteps. They tried to quarantine it, but," He shrugged. "Didn't do no good. People couldn't escape the state. More and more people were getting bitten, and back then they weren't understanding what it meant. They'd go home, they'd turn, and they'd bite their families. It was like the end of the world out there. People running with nowhere to run to. That was about five weeks ago. Nothing out there but monsters anymore. Barely seen another human in weeks. Not until today. Everyone was either bitten or they're hiding out somewhere, waiting for it to pass. No one walks the streets much no more."

"Except you." Dean intervened. "You were out there today."

Mark nodded. "I go out now and again, looking for food, better shelter, other survivors." He studied him, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You got much of a family, kid?"

Dean hesitated, and his eyes fell to the floor. "Uh, yeah." He nodded. "Kid brother and a little sister. I need to find them."

But Mark shook his head, remorseful. His eyes were soft, sympathetic, as though to say that he knew something Dean didn't. "Son, not many people made it out of the city." he said, apologetic. "Like I said, most of 'em were turned."

"You don't know them." Dean told him, defensive, because he wouldn't accept that. "They made it out."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows raised, and he couldn't understand his sudden confidence in the idea. "What makes you so sure?"

Dean looked up, and there was a much darker shadow behind his eyes. "I trained them." he said, blunt. "They're out there somewhere. I know they are." He glanced to the blackened window, curious. "You said it's worse at night?"

Mark seemed more concerned with his comment about his family, but he seemed to choose not to say anything, and he nodded. "Yeah. They seem, I don't know, quicker at night. There's more of them. I don't know why. I don't understand. But there's no electricity, no street lights anymore, it's harder to see them. All I know is that it's safer to travel by daylight. You wanna find your family, I understand that, and I wouldn't blame you if you left now, but you're welcome to stay here tonight and rest up."

Dean thought on it for a moment. It wasn't the worst idea he had ever been pitched. "Thank you." Mark waved him off as though to say it wasn't a big deal. He crossed the room and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a shelf behind the couch, picking up two glasses with it. "You been here since it started?"

"Yeah." Mark nodded, and he poured out two drinks, pushing one towards him. "People were fleeing the city, it was chaos out there. They were everywhere. I didn't wanna risk it." He paused, and his face changed. "And then..."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"My wife and daughter." He shook his head slowly, and he took a long drink from his glass. "My wife was bitten. We didn't know back then what it meant, we thought she'd just been attacked, that she was sick, we didn't know what had happened to her. It was the middle of the night, she was laying in bed, and she died. But then she came back, and she turned, she bit our daughter before I could lift a finger to stop her. After that, I didn't want my boys anywhere near those things. We waited it out, hoping they'd leave, that it'd pass, but it hasn't. My son is six, and he saw his mom and sister die right in front of him. He's seen too much already, they both have. I can't take them out there."

Dean shook his head. It was surreal. He struggled to process a clear thought. "I'm sorry."

Mark nodded slowly. There was a pain behind his eyes that Dean suspected would never go away. "For now, we're safe here. That's good enough for me. As long as my boys are safe, we're gonna stay." He looked back to him, curious. "You said you trained your brother and sister?" he pressed. "Trained them to do what?"

Dean gave a soft laugh and drank back his own whiskey. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." he muttered. "Or maybe, these days, you would. They're tough kids, both of 'em. That much I know."

"These days you gotta be." he offered. "Where are you gonna look for them? Do you know where they'd go?"

"I don't know." Dean admitted. "But I'll find them. If it's the last thing I do, I'll find them."


	3. Family Matters

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Dawn Of The Winchester**

 **Chapter Three: Family Matters**

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — 22:39 PM._

To say the least, it had been a long and confusing day, and the only thing that concerned Dean at that point was getting some much craved sleep before he headed out to find his siblings. They were the only thought on his mind, and they had been since he had woken up in that hospital room. He couldn't understand why they had left him. Were they okay? Had they been bitten? Is that why they had left him behind? Had they ran before they could turn into those things and bite him, too? No. He couldn't start thinking like that. Danielle had told him to find her, why would she have done that unless she thought there would be a chance they would still be out there when he woke up? He had to believe that they were okay, because, if they weren't, what else was there? Was else did he have to fight for? Where else did he have to go? What reason did he have to carry on in a world without them?

His eyes scanned the dark street outside through a small crack in the black paint and newspaper that covered the bedroom window. There were a couple of those things walking slowly down the road without any real sense of direction, and he found himself wondering if they even knew themselves what they were, or what had happened to them. Did they remember? Did they know their names anymore? Or were they simply monsters driven by the sight of flesh? As he stared at them, he considered the idea that they didn't know where they were headed or why. They walked in the same aimless way the man he had seen earlier did, but that had very quickly changed once he had seen him. The sight of someone living had seemed to spur him on with a new sense of determination, and a purpose had taken over his movements. Maybe that was okay with a couple, but he didn't want to imagine what it was like to have a whole army of them chasing him.

It crossed his mind, maybe his siblings were out there saving people, the way that family had saved him. Maybe they were still helping people. He had to believe that.

Dean felt the presence of someone standing behind him, watching him intently, and he heard the floorboard by the door creak under their weight. He didn't turn around. He didn't want to. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, to listen to anyone, and he couldn't bare another talk about what was happening out there, not when he had no real idea where his brother and sister were. All he wanted to do was find his family, and he didn't know where to start looking for them. Honestly, he was afraid.

There were soft, shuffling footsteps behind him as someone approached, and he heard whoever it was sit down on the bed behind him. He still didn't turn from the window.

"You said you had a little sister?" A small voice asked him, soft, curious.

The question admittedly took him by surprise, as did the voice, and Dean turned to face the young boy that was sitting on the bed. He didn't have the heart to turn him away. No matter how he felt, he couldn't do that. He forced a soft, tired smile, but the boy didn't seem to notice. "Yeah," He nodded. "Danielle." He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, and he took out an old photograph. It was of the three of them, smiling together, and he found his eyes lingering on it for a long moment before he handed it to him. "She's two years younger than me."

Sam took the picture from him and said nothing for a moment, he simply stared down at it. "She's pretty." he commented.

"Yeah," Dean smiled a little and he moved to sit beside him. "She is."

Sam glanced between him and the picture again. "Is he your brother?" he pressed, curious.

"Yeah." Dean nodded again. "His name is Sam, too."

Sam gave a soft smile, but there was a sadness in his eyes as he did. "I had a sister, too." he told him quietly, and Dean felt his heart sink in his chest. "Those things got her."

"I'm sorry." he said, genuine, because he couldn't imagine anything worse. Especially at such a young age. "What was her name?"

"Charlotte. I called her Charlie. She was four." Dean shook his head, it didn't seem real. He didn't understand. "You told my dad you think your sister is still out there somewhere?"

Dean nodded. "I hope so."

"I hope so, too." Sam agreed quietly. "Charlie was my best friend. Were you friends with your sister?"

Dean felt the smallest smile tug at his lips at the question. It seemed so simple, so innocent, coming from someone so young. "Best friend I ever had." he admitted.

Sam shifted slightly, as though uncomfortable, and he gave a soft sigh. "Did you ever fight?" he asked, curious. Dean looked down to him and his brow furrowed slightly, puzzled, but the look on the young boy's face proved there was something more preying on his mind. "Before it happened, before they found us, we had a fight. I told her that I wasn't her friend anymore, but I didn't mean it. Do you think she died mad at me?"

Dean saw the fear in his eyes, and he saw the hurt. "No, I don't." he replied, automatic, but the fear in his young eyes never ceased. "You know something, my sister and I used to fight all the time when we were your age, even when we got older, sometimes they were pretty big, and more than once I think we acted like we weren't friends anymore. But, even when we said mean things to each other, I never doubted once that she still loved me, and I don't think she doubted it, either." He offered a reassuring smile. "I'm sure your sister knew. Family always know that, no matter what happens."

"I miss her." he said softly. "And my mom."

Dean sighed. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He recognized the look his eyes, because he remembered seeing it himself when he had been that age. And he knew it wasn't something any child should ever have to worry about. "You know something, I lost my mom when I was only a couple years younger than you, a monster got her, too. But I know that she's up there watching over me, just like I'm sure your mom is watching over you. And I'm sure she's proud."

Sam looked up, somewhat hopeful. "Do you think she's with Charlie?"

Dean nodded, and a soft smile crossed his face. "I'm sure of it."

Sam handed the picture back to him, as though reluctant. "How are you going to find them?"

Dean shook his head slowly, and he looked down at the picture in his hand for a moment before he returned it to his wallet. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I will."

"Sammy?" A voice came from the doorway, and they both turned. "Come on, it's time for bed."

Sam offered him a smile but did as he was told. He hopped off the bed and left the room without argument. Nick watched him go, and he turned back to face Dean. There was a small smile on his face, as though he was still wary, and he never stepped foot inside the room. "Sorry." he offered.

Dean held up a hand. "No, it's fine." He smiled as he stood from the bed. "Don't worry about it."

"Your brother and sister younger?" he asked, curious. Dean's brow furrowed, and Nick shrugged. "Couldn't help but overhear."

"Yeah," He nodded. "Sam's the youngest. Biggest, but youngest." His gaze shifted to face him, and he noted the look in his eyes, it was the same look of loss and hopelessness and defeat he had seen in the mirror for years. He suspected it would never go away. "Hey, I'm sorry about your sister. Really." he offered, genuine. "And, your mom."

"Thanks." He stepped into the room and offered a small shrug. "You know, I always promised that kid I'd keep her safe. When my mom told me she was having a girl I was so disappointed. I wanted another brother, you know? All I thought was I'd have this bratty little kid running around, driving me nuts," He smiled a little, and a soft laugh escaped him. "You don't understand it until you've got one, right? Little sisters, they look at you like you're some kind of superhero."

Dean smiled. "Yeah," He nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean." His thoughts drifted back to his own sister, and he couldn't imagine the pain of knowing he couldn't protect her from the world. He didn't want to think about it, and he knew the amount of blame he would place on his own back if something did happen to her. "What happened, it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

But Nick looked anything but assured. "I was supposed to be her big brother, you know?" He pulled a hand down his face. "How does something like this happen to a four year old girl? What did she ever do to anyone? What kind of world is this for Sam to grow up in?"

Dean shook his head, perplexed. "I don't know, man." he offered, apologetic. "I wish I did."

Nick nodded slowly. "Big questions for this time of night, huh? I'll let you sleep. You look like you need it."

Dean sighed as the door closed behind him, and he was left staring at it, alone. He didn't know what to think. Were his brother and sister even out there, or was he being naive in thinking that they had survived? He had to wonder how many people had managed to survive it. A part of him wanted nothing more than to walk out the door right there and hunt his siblings down, but where would he get? Where would he go? He needed time to think, he needed time to plan, where was he even supposed to start looking for them? He tried to think where they would go, but nothing came to him. Were they running, or were they fighting? If they were staying on the move, how could he even hope to catch up to them? The possibility came to mind that he might never seen them again.

Maybe this time he really was asking the impossible.

* * *

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — 07:32 AM_

Dean heaved a sigh as he secured his duffel bag over his left shoulder, and the guns inside it clinked together as he did. He pulled a hand down his tired face, and he would have been lying if he said he had gotten more than a couple of hours sleep the previous night. The only thought on his mind had been Sam and Danielle, and how he needed to find them, before it was too late. He was ready to find them, and he wasn't prepared to stop until he did. No matter what it cost him, he wasn't going to give up.

His eyes looked up to find Mark's, and he gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, man." he said, genuine. "For everything."

Mark nodded. "Don't worry about it." he assured. "You got somewhere in mind?"

"Uh, yeah, I have an idea." he offered, but even he didn't sound convinced by his words. He was going out on a whim, he knew that, but he couldn't think of what else to do at that point. It was the only idea he'd had in hours of thinking, and he didn't have a plan B.

He noted that Mark didn't look too confident, either, but he chose not to comment. "Stay safe out there, man." he urged. "You know where we are if you need to turn back."

"Yeah," He took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you."

"Good luck." Nick smiled, and Dean gave him a nod.

Before he could even think to move, Sam stepped forwards and threw his arms around his middle tightly. A little taken aback, it took Dean a moment to react, but he patted his back lightly, and he crouched down to face him and smiled. "You look after your family, you hear me?"

Sam nodded. "I hope you find your brother and sister."

* * *

 _Twin Falls, Idaho — 08:01 AM_

Dean set out to a place he wasn't even sure would still exist. The streets were quiet, much quieter than what he had expected, but there was still something eerie about it all. Just the idea of the dead walking the streets with him made him uneasy, and he had to wonder where they all were. Mark had told him not many people had made it out of the city, so where were they? Where were all the people who had been turned into those things? Where were all the people Danielle had expected to be waiting outside the hospital for him? Had someone already dealt with them? Or were they lurking somewhere in wait? He frowned slightly, something wasn't right.

It was as he rounded a corner than his questions were answered. He had found them. Or, maybe, they had found him. His hand gripped the gun he held, and he found himself questioning whether it would be smarter to simply turn and run. The sound of shooting was only going to draw more of them to him, wasn't that what Mark had said? And he wasn't prepared for full on combat with an army of the living dead. It wasn't worth the risk of getting bitten. One bite, one wrong move, one second, and the search for his brother and sister would be over. He would never find them. Cautiously, he backed away, and he turned to head quickly back the way he came. Behind him, he knew that they followed. His eyes fell to a car, left abandoned in the middle of the road. The doors were open, as though the owner had flee in a panic. There was a chance.

Dean climbed behind the wheel and turned the key, and he held his breath. A wave of relief washed through him at the sound of the engine roaring to life, and he knew he had a plan in mind. His boot slammed down on the accelerator, and he didn't even hesitate in driving right through the middle of the hoard before him. Bodies hit the car, they bounced off the front, tried to grab the back, but he didn't even acknowledge it. He simply drove ahead in a straight line and barely blinked. He drove and drove until they were nothing more than a blur in his rear view mirror.

There was a nine hour drive between him and his destination, and he could only hope that it was going to be a safe one. But a part of him already knew different. A part of him knew there would be more of them waiting in the distance, ready for him, and all he could do was hope there weren't too many to take on at once. He didn't intend to die before he had found Sam and Danielle.

Dean was determined. This thing wasn't going to beat him.

* * *

 _Montana State Line — 17:41 PM._

Almost ten hours had passed since Dean had left Idaho, and he could only wish that his journey had been a smooth one. It was a drive that he would have given anything to forget. It had been long, painful, and deadly silent. The silence had been almost deafening, and it had left him alone with his thoughts. The more he thought about what was going on in the world, and the more he thought about his siblings, the more he considered the idea that something really had happened to them. They were thoughts we would have done anything to shake, but, no matter how hard he tried to block them out, they just kept on coming back.

He had seen thousands of those things walking the roads and he had driven past them all. Somewhere about four hours in he had simply stopped looking. He had stopped giving them any kind of acknowledgement He had seen old people, young people, kids. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened, or how many of them were out there. Maybe there were more of those things out there now than there were people. That wasn't a comforting thought to have.

The car juddered, and then it juddered again, he glanced down at the dash, and his stomach dropped. "Oh, come on." he muttered, and he shook his head in annoyance, hitting at the wheel as though he could encourage it to keep going. It rolled to a steady stop and he sat back in his seat, defeated. "You know, I never had this from my baby." he chastised, and then he frowned. "And I'm talking to a car." His eyes scanned the road ahead slowly, cautious, there was no other option, he was going to have to walk. This certainly hadn't been a part of his plan.

Dean cursed under his breath as he climbed from the car, and he secured the duffel bag of weapons over his shoulder. His gun was gripped in his left hand, ready to fire at anything that should move, and there was a determined frown on his face. It wasn't much further to his destination, and he could only pray that the road would stay as quiet as it was there. With that thought in mind, he set off walking down the highway.

It was a short walk to the state line, and the sight before him was nothing he could ever have imagined. There were hundreds of them swarming around the graveyard of cars that had been abandoned there. He had to wonder if the people there were the ones who had been driving the cars, who had, at one point, been trying to escape the place in the hope they wouldn't turn into what they had become. It was horrific. They paced back and forth, not seeming to know what to do or where to go. It was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, beyond anything he had ever experienced. Even for a hunter, he knew, this was way out of their league.

Dean stood there on the road for a long moment and simply stared on at them. None of them seemed to have noticed him, and he was more than content in keeping it that way. There were too many of them to fight off at once, and he knew that it would be suicide to try. He knew should he try to run they would only follow. What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, and he couldn't form a straight thought in his head. He had to do something, but what?

Taking the chance, he walked carefully towards the trees at the side of the highway. He had to get past them. The trees would be enough to cover him. They were thick, dense, but they made it hard to see anything that should be wandering around them with him. He was on high alert, ready to fire at any sound around him. But there didn't seem to be anyone there with him, and he dared to believe that he was going to make it without being caught. There was nothing, just silence, as though even the birds had vanished. He walked and he walked, not even sure that he was still headed in the right direction, but there was no way in hell that he was turning back, not knowing what waited behind him.

* * *

 _Whitefish, Montana. — 18:30 PM_

Dean gave a sigh as he continued up the steep him. Twigs and branches crunched beneath his boots, and the sun shone down brightly over him as it set in the sky, to the point that he could feel it burning his skin. Everything up there in the woods seemed so normal, so calm, so quiet, as though there was nothing wrong in the world, but he knew that to be different. His mind wandered back to a time when he and his siblings had been teenagers, when they had hiked through those mountains together while they waited for their father to return from one of his many hunts. Sam had been so happy, so full of life. Danielle had done nothing but complain as she dragged herself up the hill, and he remembered her asking the question why anyone would choose to do such a thing for fun. It had been a good day, one where there had been no monsters, no hunting, no pain. There had just been them. Family. And he would have given anything to have them there with him now.

Those had been simpler times, and, back then, he could never have imagined himself being in the situation he was in now.

It was as he came through the thick trees into an opening that his eyes fell to the old, wooden cabin in the distance. It was a building he hadn't seen in a long, long time, since he and his siblings had been hiding up there with Bobby plotting how to take down Dick Roman. He smiled at the thought, simpler times. After everything, he had made it, he was finally there. As he approached he noticed the truck parked outside, one that he had never seen before, and he just knew that someone was in there. A flicker of hope leaped in his chest at the thought of it being his siblings. He didn't bother to knock on the door, he simply pushed it open and stepped inside, his gun still aimed and ready to fire against anyone or anything that jumped out at him.

But the cabin was quiet. It was clear that someone was staying there. Guns were placed on the table in the center of the room, and there was a man's jacket thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. He had a feeling, he wasn't alone there.

"Well, well, well," A voice came from behind him, and he frowned. "Dean Winchester."

Dean turned, curious, because he knew he recognized that voice from somewhere, and his eyes went wide. " _Garth_?"


	4. Friends In Low Places

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter! Just a heads up for this one, there will be death. No apologies;-)))_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Dawn Of The Winchester**

 **Chapter Four: Friends In Low Places**

 _Whitefish, Montana — Rufus's Cabin — 18:54 PM._

"Well, well, well," A voice came from behind him, and he frowned. "Dean Winchester."

Dean turned, curious, because he knew he recognized that voice from somewhere, and his eyes went wide. " _Garth_?"

Honestly, he had been the last person he had expected to find there. But before Dean could get so much as another word out, before he could even think up a coherent sentence or question, Garth was there. His arms wrapped around his neck tightly, and the force of his hug was enough to knock Dean back a couple of steps.

"Oh." Admittedly a little taken aback, he chuckled, but he brought up his arms all the same. He patted him lightly on the back. "Okay." A smile came to his face. "I forgot you were a hugger." he remarked, and he pulled back to face him with a grin. He would have been lying had he said that he wasn't happy to see him. Another hunter, a familiar face, someone who might have some clue as to what the hell was happening to the world. "Dude, what the hell are you doing up here?" he pressed, puzzled. "What's going on?"

Garth took a step back from him and offered a half-hearted shrug. "I was looking for a safe place to set up base." he replied simply. "Bobby told me about this place once, said it was a good place if I ever needed to lay low. Up in the mountains, isolated, safe. Barely seen another person since I came." A grin crossed his face. "Until today."

Dean looked around slowly. "Huh." He wasn't sure what to say. It was clear that his siblings weren't there, and they probably never had been. That left him at a loss.

"So," Garth pressed, curious. "What are you doing up here?" There was a hesitance to his tone that Dean didn't miss, because they both knew that it wasn't like him to show up anywhere without his siblings, especially at a time like that. "Where's Danielle? And Sam?"

"I don't know." Dean answered honestly, and the comment seemed to take him by surprise. A frown came to his face, as though concerned, pushing silently for more information. "I woke up in the hospital a couple days ago, they were already long gone. I don't even know where to start looking for them." he admitted. "I mean, I thought maybe they'd come here, it wasn't too far away, but, they could be anywhere by now."

Garth smiled at him, optimistic. "I might be able to help you with that."

Dean looked up to him, and his eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Well, come on in, compadre." he encouraged as he bypassed him into the living room. "All cell phones are down, but I'm guessing you've figured that out?"

"Yeah," Dean frowned and he turned to him. "What happened with that?"

Garth shrugged. "They went down a couple weeks after it started. All TV stations, radios, everything. Most of the state lines are blocked. They tried to quarantine this thing, but it all just got out of hand. Most of the highways are just packed up with cars, people who tried to flee and never made it, it's impossible to drive them."

"Yeah, I noticed." Dean muttered. He didn't understand. "Garth, what the hell is happening out there? Do you know what this is?"

Garth shook his head, clueless. "It started off small, I thought it was just a normal hunt, you know, town gone mad. But it was happening everywhere, all over the country, people were panicking, it all happened too fast for anyone to control. Within a week it was like half the country had been turned into those things, and it's just spreading faster. I don't know what to call it. I don't know what started it. I don't think anyone does."

Dean dropped down to sit on the couch with a sigh. He wasn't sure he wanted to know anything more. Things were getting worse by the minute, and all he wanted to know was that his siblings were alive somewhere, that they were safe, but he was starting to doubt it. It was beginning to sound as though no one had survived what had happened out there.

But he refused to buy into those thoughts. Not until he was sure. "So," He looked up, expectant. "How do you think you can find them?" Garth smiled at him, and there was a smugness to it that he didn't miss. He reached into a bag beneath the coffee table and pulled out a laptop. It was huge, and it looked more complicated than anything he had ever seen before. "Where the hell did you get that?!"

The smirk on his face only widened. "I saved a guy at Google." he stated simply. "I went to help him with a case, monster in the screens kinda thing. You remember the ring, right? Well, he said it might come in handy in our line of work."

"You saved a guy at Google?" He nodded to himself. "Of course you did. Coming from the guy who killed the tooth fairy, why am I not even surprised? And, more to the point, dude, where are you getting all these good hunts?"

"Why?" Garth pressed. "What are you hunting these days?"

"The undead, apparently." he remarked. "So, what are we looking for, anyway? I mean, if cell phones don't work, how are you gonna track them?"

"Do they have credit cards?" he pressed. "We could see if they've been taking money out? Might give us a trail?"

"Why would they need money?" Dean asked, confused. "What are they gonna be buying? I'm guessing not many stores are still open these days?"

Garth gave a thoughtful frown. "Good point."

But then an idea came to mind. "What about a car?" he pressed, curious, hopeful. "The Impala has a tracking device in it."

His eyebrows raised, and he seemed nothing but surprised by the idea. "It does?"

"For emergencies." he stated. "I don't even know if they still have the car, but," He shrugged, defeated. "I don't know how else to find them." There was a clear note of despondence in Dean's tone, and Garth didn't miss it. He nodded slowly, as if to say that he understood, and pulled the laptop towards him. Dean pulled out his wallet and tossed a small card towards him, one with a bunch of codes and numbers scrawled across it in his brother's handwriting. "Don't even ask me to explain what any of that means," he muttered. "I'm hoping you know."

Garth narrowed his eyes at it for a moment, his attention flickering between the card and the screen. "Yeah." he nodded, and he began typing quickly. "I get it."

Dean gave an impressed nod. "Well, you're just full of surprises."

Garth snickered. "Might take a few minutes, it's not as fast as it was before the power went down."

"How does that even work? I mean, I'm guessing there's no internet anymore, right?" Garth opened his mouth to explain, but Dean held up a hand to silence him before he had the chance. "Actually, you know what, I don't even wanna know. I already have a headache. You got any beers in this place?" He didn't wait for an answer before he pushed himself up and headed towards the refrigerator. He pulled out two beers and handed one to Garth on his way back to the couch. "So, how long you been up here?"

"Uh, about three weeks." he told him. "Took me a couple to make it up here. Those things are everywhere."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "The highway's crawling with them."

Garth nodded. "I know," he muttered. "They've been around there for a while, just standing there, pacing. It's like they don't know what to do, or where to go. I don't think they remember."

"Until they see us, you mean." Dean remarked.

Garth shook his head. "We'll stick to the back roads, it's safer. We can get most of the way without going near the highway." he encouraged. "All those on the highway came from the cars, I think. It's like that at all the state lines. Everyone panicked, everyone tried to escape, but the roads were blocked off. Some of the people in the cars turned, and within a couple of days the place was a graveyard." He glanced back to the laptop before him as something bleeped. "Huh." His eyebrow raised. "Your car is in Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Dean frowned, because that news didn't fill him with confidence. Danielle's letter had given him the impression they were planning to stay on the move. "So, they went straight from Idaho to Wyoming. And in six weeks that's as far as they've gotten?"

"Maybe they found somewhere safe to stay?" Garth suggested.

Dean nodded. "Or maybe something happened." he countered.

Garth looked torn as to what to say to him, because he knew that it was a real possibility. But, he shrugged, nonchalant, as though there was nothing to be concerned about. "Well, we ain't gonna find out sitting here, are we?"

Dean frowned, puzzled. "Wait, you're coming with me?"

Garth shrugged again. "I can't hide up here forever." he stated. "This thing ain't stopping. I wanna help you find them."

For a moment, Dean seemed reluctant. But he nodded. "Okay then." He grabbed his jacket. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

 _Two Hours Later — Montana — Highway_

Dean shifted the slightest bit in his seat, and he flexed his hands from the steering wheel for a moment. It had been a long drive, and there was nothing but empty highway ahead of them. He didn't know what to expect, and he could only hope that the rest of their journey would be as calm and quiet as it had seemed so far. Maybe that was a naive thought to have in mind. There was an old tape playing through the speakers, something that he would normally never have allowed to be played while he drove, but he found himself not wanting to argue. He glanced over towards the passenger seat where Garth was staring absently out of the window beside him, bopping his head slightly to the music as though he didn't have a care in the world. Dean had never understood that about him.

"You heard from any other hunters since this thing started?" he asked, the first one of them to break the silence in a while. "I mean, has anyone found a real way to beat this thing? Or, at least, found out what it is?"

Garth shook his head. "Nope. Haven't heard from anyone since it started." he said simply. "Once the cell phones went down that was it. We were all on our own. I don't even know if there are any hunters left out there to fight this."

Dean gave a thoughtful nod, because he knew that was a real possibility. He just hoped that wasn't the case. "Is this happening everywhere?"

"As far as I know." Garth nodded. "All states went into quarantine when it started, but eventually everyone gave up. The police, the military, they were all overpowered. Most of 'em were bitten trying to control it. After that it was like everyone for themselves."

Dean shook his head slowly. It didn't seem real. "How does this even happen?" he muttered, more to himself than to the man beside him.

"I don't know." Garth offered. "I don't think anyone knows. It's like something from a movie, right?"

"Yeah, tell me about it." he agreed. "And most of those movies don't end well, either."

"I don't know," Garth looked up, somewhat hopeful. "Zombieland was pretty optimistic."

Dean chuckled. "Can't say I saw that one." he remarked. "Not a lot of time for movies lately between me and Dan escaping purgatory, Cas and the friggin' angel tablets, Crowley being a douche, you know, the usual."

"Oh. Right, yeah." Garth looked away for a moment. "I'd forgotten about that."

It wasn't a conversation that he wanted to get into, and it was a topic he never wanted to think about again.

A frown crossed his face and he glanced down towards the radio in confusion. "Really, Garth?" he pressed, dubious.

"What?" he asked, defensive, as though to ask what the problem was. Dirrty by Christina Aguilera played, and he shook his head at him. "Man, how do you get pumped before you hunt?"

Dean laughed, but he made no move to change the track. "You're as bad as my sister. She lives for this song." He smiled at the thought, and something crossed his mind. "So," he pressed, curious. "Speaking of Danielle, is this really that you wanna help me find them? Or is this about you wanting to find them?" There was a smirk on his face, and Garth looked up to face him, as though confused. "Come on, I know about your little crush on my sister."

Garth looked away, chuckling slightly, but he didn't miss the heat that showed in his cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean laughed at him, genuinely laughed. "Dude, it's written all over your face." he remarked. "Maybe you should just tell her."

Garth scoffed. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

"Why not?" Dean pushed. "Dani loves you."

"Let me guess, your sister probably calls me cute and says aw when I do things." Dean smiled a little, but he didn't disagree, and Garth nodded to himself. "That's what I thought."

Dean chuckled, amused. "Hey, it's the end of the world, you never know." He threw him a smirk. "God knows she's made worse choices in the past."

"Yeah, well," Garth scoffed. "Tell you what, I'll tell Danielle, if we survive that."

"Survive what?" Dean looked back to the road, and the tires of the car screeched to a halt. "Oh." he stated. "That."

There were monsters everywhere he looked, hundreds of them, and his eyes went wide at the sight. They walked the road in all different directions, and it was so similar to the sight he had seen in Idaho. They surrounded the mass of abandoned cars just left in the road, and it confirmed his suspicions, they were the ones who had climbed out of them, the people who, at one time, had been trying to flee their homes. He had never seen anything like it before. What the hell were they supposed to do? There were so many of them, and there were only two of them. They were outnumbered. As if they had realized that there was something happening, they turned towards the car, and there was no question that they had spotted them. Every murderous set of eyes fixed upon them, and their movements seemed to speed up as they approached. No longer did they pace without direction, they looked determined, transfixed, and they weren't stopping.

Dean set the car into reverse and took off backwards down the highway, putting a respectable distance between them and the mass of them that continued to approach. They stepped out of the car and nodded between each other as they raised their guns. They shot and they shot, taking them down one by one as they approached, and it all seemed a little too easy at the start. They were slow, and they each had a near perfect aim. The bodies dropped one by one, but they were coming closer and closer as they tried in vein to take them all out before they reached them. By the time they came close enough there weren't too many of them left standing, and their odds seemed considerably better than they had done, but they weren't out of danger yet, far from it.

They continued to shoot, backing away as they did, and it seemed the safest way to survive it. Dean took the opportunity to punch one of them in the face, and he noted the coolness of it's skin at the brief touch. He shot it before it could even think of standing again. They were surrounding them, and there was only so much that the two of them could do at that point. They fought and they fought, doing everything they could to keep them at a distance, but it was no use. Two of them reached Dean before he could do anything to stop them, and they grabbed a hold of him tightly. Their teeth were on show, fully prepared to bite them, and he frowned in confusion. He didn't understand how any of it was real, even for them it seemed like a stretch. Without giving it much more thought, he shot one of them through the neck and pushed the other away from him. He turned and shot it, but something else caught his eye.

His eyes were wide and he opened his mouth to shout, but the words didn't come quick enough. In a split second, there was blood covering the side of Garth's neck, and he yelled in pain. Dean shot the monster that gripped his shoulders in the head and it fell to the ground, dead, by his side. Garth stood with wide eyes, looking more shocked than anything else. He opened and closed his mouth, as if to say something, but no words left him. He stumbled slightly, weak, and fell forwards to the floor.

The number of them only seemed to be increasing by the second, and Dean knew now that there was no chance they were going to be able to fight them all off. It had been a bad plan from the beginning, and it was only now that he had been in the middle of it that he realized just how bad things really were. He moved forwards and grabbed a hold of Garth. He threw one of his arms around his shoulders and all but dragged him back to the car. In a second he turned the car around and drove at full speed in the opposite direction down the highway, putting as much distance between them and the hoard behind them as possible.

"Dean." Garth murmured beside him, his voice was weak and he looked as though he was struggling to remain conscious. "Pull over."

Dean glanced between him and the road, and he opened his mouth to say something, but quickly stopped himself. In that instance, in the rush of everything and the panic, the only thought in his mind had been to get him to a hospital, but then he remembered, there weren't any. He had seen the state of the one where he had woken up, and he knew there was no help out there for them. Hesitant, and knowing it was more than likely sealing the fate of his friend, he pulled the car over at the side of the road.

Garth reached out and opened the door at his side, and he fell from the car to the road. Dean climbed out and ran around to him, but Garth held out a hand as if to warn him not to come any closer. He didn't understand.

Dean dropped to his knees beside him, his eyes wide. He pressed a hand to the bleeding wound at his neck, helpless. "Dean," His voice was weak, broken, strained, as though it was taking all his effort to use it. "You need to run."

But it was like he hadn't clicked onto what was about to happen. "Garth, come on, man." he urged, shaking his head at him.

Garth offered him a smile. "Pleasure workin' with ya, buddy." he murmured. And then his eyes closed.

"Garth?" Dean shook him, a frown on his face. "Dude? Can you hear me?" But he didn't respond. "Garth?!"

There was a long, silent moment where all Dean could do was sit there and stare at his lifeless body. Everything seemed to stop, and he realized that he was looking down at yet another person who had given his life to help their family. It hurt. But nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to witness.

Garth's body began to shake, as though he were having a seizure. Every muscle in his body shook violently. He screamed in pain, as though being tortured, and the sound went right through Dean, it sent a chill through his body and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The frown on his face was one of agony, and Dean didn't know what to do or how to help him.

But, after a moment it stopped, all movement and sound ceased to exist and Garth went still. Dean couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't react. Everything was silent.

But Garth's eyes opened again, and they were nothing like he had ever seen in the hunter before. No longer were they kind, playful, glimmering with mischief. They were white, cold, angry. Dead. Garth was dead, and yet he was staring him straight in the eyes. The shock of it was enough to knock Dean back, and he sat there on the road staring at him, frozen. Garth made a sound, something like a growl, and his hand reached out towards him.

Dean shook his head slowly. "I'm so sorry." he said softly. And he shot him. He fell to the ground at his feet, and he stopped. Dean sighed, looking over him slowly. It didn't seem real, it wasn't right, and it sure as hell wasn't fair. "What the hell is happening?" he murmured.

Something inside him snapped, and he knew that he had to finish it. He marched back to the car and threw himself behind the wheel, taking off at full speed down the highway, back towards the hoard ahead. They were still heading down the highway after them, but Dean was more than prepared to end that. He stopped the car and climbed out, gun in hand, and repeated his actions from before. He shot and shot at the monsters, taking them down one by one, backing away as he did, until there was nothing more than a pile of dead bodies on the road before him. He looked up towards the mass graveyard of cars before him, and he felt a determination like no other.

It was as he began to walk towards them that something caught his eye, something that he hadn't noticed before. And, despite everything, Dean couldn't help the smile that came to his face as his eyes fell to a black car in the distance. It was parked in front of hundreds of cars, and the smile quickly contorted to a frown. He had never seen anything like it before. He approached it slowly, cautious, not sure what he expected to find there. From where he stood he couldn't see anyone, anything, and he let himself believe that he had passed the worst of it. He could imagine it, his siblings had driven up the highway and realized that they could drive no further, and they had left the car. He just had to hope that they had not met the hoard that he had just experienced.

Almost hesitant, he pulled open the driver's door of the Impala and glanced inside, there on the seat was a piece of paper folded in half, and his name was written on the front of it. He picked it up and opened it, expectant.

 _Dean. I'm guessing if you've found your car it means that you're looking for us. There's no way we're getting through the road block, so we're going to have to leave your car, sorry. We're headed towards Colorado, I'm not sure where yet. We don't know where's safe, or where's been hit the worst, but we're going to try and find somewhere to stay. Follow the road, please don't give up. Be safe. — Danielle._

Dean gave a short sigh, because what was he supposed to make of that? He didn't know how old the note was, or if they were even there anymore. Maybe it meant that he was on the right track. He had somewhere to head to, he had a direction, he just hoped that his brother and sister would still be alive for him to find there.

At that point, it was the most he could hope for.


	5. Savior

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!;-)_

* * *

 **Dawn Of The Winchester**

 **Chapter Five:** **Savior**

Dean walked cautiously through the mass of cars abandoned on the road, and he gave a short shake of his head. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before, or anything he had ever imagined seeing before. There were dead bodies still sitting behind the wheels, as though they had died waiting for an opening to go somewhere. He just didn't understand it. How had something like that happened?

And, why?

There was a sound behind him, and he turned sharply. His eyes scanned the mass of cars for the source, and his stomach dropped when he saw it. There was a man approaching slowly, his gaze fixed solely to him. He wasn't alive, there was no question about it. Dean sighed and brought up his gun, and he shot the corpse effortlessly through the head. But as soon as he had fired, he knew that it had been a mistake. The sound seemed to draw the rest of them towards him, and dozens of them rounded on him. He was in their sight, and they looked nothing but determined to get their hands on him.

Dean fired his gun, shooting the ones closest to him before he broke into a sprint through the cars. They were everywhere, and he took them out one by one as he flew past them. He knew he didn't have the bullets to spare, and somewhere deep down he was aware that he was running short on them. He came to a clearing on the highway, out of the graveyard of cars, and he turned.

There were at least ten of them approaching, fast. They moved faster than he was aware they could. The sight of him seemed to speed them up, they were driven and headed right for him. Dean continued to back away, and he fell backwards. Over what he wasn't sure, and all he could do was stare at the monsters still approaching him. They were getting closer, and he knew there was no chance of running, because they would always follow. He had to kill them. It was the only way to escape them.

Dean aimed and he fired, and his heart completely stopped. His gun didn't shoot. The things didn't stop. They were still moving towards him and his eyes were blown wide. Did he run? Did he try to fight? One bite and it was all over. He was out of ammo and he was cornered.

Before Dean even had the chance to process a clear thought in his head, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. The creature before him fell to it's knees, and he didn't even flinch as the blood splattered across the road behind it. There was another shot, and then another, and then another. They kept coming and coming, never ceasing. And he watched as one by one the bodies dropped before him. Someone behind him liked him, and, by the lethal and scary accuracy of their shots, he wasn't sure he wanted to turn and see who his savior was.

But it was in that moment, where Dean turned around to see who it was that had saved his life, that his heart skipped a beat. For a moment he was completely stunned. His breath caught in his throat, and he wasn't sure he knew how to feel. It was as though time had stopped, he was frozen on the spot. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open.

Amidst the numerous bodies rotting on the street around him, there was a girl walking towards him, or, rather, marching. She wore some black jeans with numerous rips in each leg, with a pair of scuffed boots and a white vest, and the colour only seemed to emphasize her tanned skin. Her face was hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses, but he didn't miss the frown that took over her features. Her blonde hair, usually so straight, was wavy and pulled back, it swung behind her in the breeze, brought on by the severe force of her stride, and she was armed from head to foot with weapons. He noted the guns strapped to her thighs, the bullets wrapped around her middle, the rifles at her back and the shotguns she held in either hand. It crossed his mind that she looked like something out of an action movie. The girl striding towards him looked nothing like the girl he had grown up with. And, for a moment, he wasn't sure that she had even realized that it was him.

Dean stumbled unceremoniously to his feet, not quite the reunion he had been anticipating, and glanced between her and the dead body lying at his feet. He didn't know how to react. And, apparently, neither did she. She continued on her way to him, but the frown on her face didn't falter. The gun in her left hand was aimed at him, and there was no way she couldn't have recognized him by now.

"Did it bite you?" Her voice carried the short distance between them, but she didn't come any closer. She sounded angry, driven. And he almost didn't recognize the tone.

Dean scoffed, a little taken aback. "Well, it's great to see you, too, sis." he commented dryly.

But her face didn't change, and the gun didn't lower. "Did it bite you?" she asked him again, pushing the words through gritted teeth.

And it was then that he realized she really wasn't in the mood to screw around. "No." he told her bluntly. "No. It didn't bite me." Her eyes scanned him slowly, they paused at the large blood stain on the front of his shirt, and they shifted to his bloody hands. She looked dubious. "What?" he pressed, incredulous. "You want me to strip? You think I'd come anywhere near you if I'd been bitten, kiddo? Really? Have you met me?"

It took a moment, but she lowered the gun, and her entire face softened. "Are you...I mean...oh my god...Dean?"

Dean smiled, relieved, and he nodded. "Hey, Dani."

A short breath escaped her, somewhere between a laugh and a cry of disbelief, and she returned the guns to the back of her jeans. "You're alive."

Dean frowned. "Course I'm alive." he quipped. "I'm kind of disappointed that you'd think otherwise."

Danielle smiled at him, and then she grinned. She took a step forwards and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you're okay." she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean pulled back enough to face her and he raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"For leaving you there." She shook her head. "I wanted to stay, I did. I'm sorry. I—"

"Hey," He shook his head. "It doesn't matter, okay? Forget about it."

Her shaking hands found his, and she looked up to him, afraid. "What happened to you?" She looked down to his shirt, and there was a frown on her face. "Dean, what?"

"I'm okay." he said simply. It wasn't the time or the place to tell her what had happened. He couldn't do it, not there.

Danielle pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head, and that was when he really saw her. Her eyes were nothing like he had remembered. They were dull, lifeless, as though a light had gone out in her while they had been apart. He had missed something. There were dark circles beneath them, and he didn't miss the slight redness to them, as if giving away she hadn't been sleeping. Then again, he couldn't blame her. With everything that was going on around them, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to sleep again.

He softened, and he pulled her towards him again, this time tighter. "I missed you." he murmured. "Thanks for saving my ass."

She laughed against his shoulder. "Any time." They stood there for a moment longer, and something about it felt so safe, so secure. "Come on," she pressed. "Let's get out of here."

They walked down the road in silence, and, despite everything, Dean couldn't quite grasp how he suddenly felt so much safer, so relieved at having her by his side again. He reached out and took the sunglasses from the top of her head, and he tried them on. "These don't come cheap." he commented lucidly. "You taken up looting, Dani?"

Danielle huffed a laugh, reaching up and taking them back, returning them to her own face. "Well, I don't know if you've noticed but there's a certain absence of law enforcement these days. Why should we be the only ones who don't benefit?" She threw him a smirk, and the amusement was evident on his face. "Speaking of," She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. She pressed the button. He heard a sound somewhere ahead of them, and he noticed as one of the cars lights flashed as it unlocked.

His eyebrows raised. "Wow." He looked over the black car parked at the side of the road. "Nice ride. You steal this, too?" She shot him a knowing look, and he smirked, ruffling her hair. "That's my girl."

Danielle started the car, and the engine roared to life. Dean cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable. "So, dare I ask, where's Sam?" he pressed, cautious. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah." Her smile was tight at the mention of their brother, and he didn't miss it. "He's fine. He'll be glad to see you."

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure he believed her, and he knew there was more to it, but he chose not to comment. "And, how are you?" he asked, and she glanced up at him. "I mean, really?"

Danielle shrugged as she set off down the highway, and it crossed his mind that driving was an excuse not to face him. "I'm okay." she confirmed. "I mean, the world is in chaos, right? It's not exactly anything new to us."

Dean scoffed. "I'd say this is something pretty new to us, kid." he muttered, shaking his head. "What the hell is this?"

She smiled at him. "Nothing we can't get used to." she offered. "I mean, it's not like we have much of a choice."

"Hmm. I guess not." There was something about the look on her face that didn't fill him with confidence, and he got the impression that she wasn't nearly as put together as she seemed to be, but he chose not to comment. "What made you so sure I was dead?"

Danielle raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, you looked pretty surprised to see me." he commented. "What happened?"

Danielle said nothing for a moment, and he could see her thinking hard about her answer. "You woke up in hospital, right?" He nodded. "So, did it not occur to you why you were there? Don't you remember? Dean, you were in a coma. You smashed your head on that demon hunt, they told us you weren't gonna wake up. You were alive on a machine." She paused, and her voice wavered slightly. "And then the power went down. You were basically dead when we left. Your doctor, he was the first one I saw go."

"What does that mean?" he pressed, confused.

"I was standing right in front of him, and he told me there was nothing they could do, he said that you weren't going to wake up, and then," She shook her head. "I couldn't even get a word out. This guy walked up behind him and just took a chunk out of his neck. That was the first one we'd seen. Within a couple of days the entire hospital was just either dead or gone. I'm sorry we had to leave you, Dean, I am, but they knew we were in there, and they would've gotten in. We would've drawn them to you."

But Dean held up his hand to stop her. "Dani, you don't have to apologize." he said, sincere. "I told you. It was the right thing to do."

Danielle didn't look convinced. And he could hear the level of guilt that came through in her words. "How did you find us, anyway?" she asked, curious.

Dean scoffed. "Because your cryptic notes were so helpful." he remarked.

"Hey, at least I left you a note." she rebuked, defensive. "And guns. And clothes."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Yeah, thanks for that." he said, sincere. "I met this guy, he took me in, kinda explained it all to me. He was staying in this place with his kids," He shook his head, because he didn't want to think about what was happening to them now, he could only hope that they were alright, but he knew he'd never likely find out. "Anyway, I headed up to Rufus's cabin, thought maybe you'd be there. And I found Garth."

"Garth?" She turned to him with a frown. "What the hell was he doing up there?"

"That's what I said." He gave a soft chuckle. "He helped me track the Impala, and I followed the road, like you said. Next thing I know I'm surrounded by monsters and some skinny blonde chick was saving my ass."

Danielle chuckled. "She sounds badass." she commented.

Dean offered a weak smile, but she could tell that it was forced. Something about him seemed off, there was a look on his face that proved he wanted to say something, that he needed to say something, but he just couldn't seem to find the words. There was something praying on his mind, something big.

"So, where's Garth?" she pressed, curious.

Once again, Dean opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes were focused ahead at the road, he looked lost in his own world.

"Dude?" She nudged him lightly in the arm. "Hey, are you sure you're alright?" she pressed, concerned. "You don't seem yourself. Dean, what happened?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "There's something I need to tell you. Look, it's not easy, but..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

She glanced between him and the road, eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

"Garth." He saw the look in her eyes, and he could tell, she knew what he was about to tell her. "I'm sorry, Dan. We were out on the road, and they all just came out of nowhere, there were so many of them." He looked down to the blood that still covered his hands. "I know you were close. I'm sorry."

Danielle shook her head to herself. "Garth was a good guy." she said simply. "He didn't deserve to go like that."

Dean nodded in agreement. "He was gonna tell you something." He smiled a little. "When we found you, he was gonna tell you about his crush on you."

A frown came to her face. "Wait, what?"

Dean huffed a laugh at how clueless she looked. "You know, for such a smart girl, you really can be blind. The guy liked you, Dan, a lot. And, I'm not telling you to make you feel worse, but," He shrugged. "I think he wanted you to know."

Danielle sat back a little in her seat, her eyes fixed to the road ahead. For a moment he was sure that she was going to cry, but whatever emotion showed in her face was quickly covered. "I always knew he'd go down fighting." she muttered, distant. "For such a scrawny guy he was a fighter."

Dean smiled. "Only reason I found you was because of him, and he got killed for it."

"Hey, don't do that." she stopped him. "This isn't on you, Dean. This thing, whatever it is, it gets everyone in the end."

Dean frowned, and he was sure there was more behind her words, but he didn't want to ask. He hadn't missed the hopeless look in her eyes, or how she seemed to be simply going through the motions. There was something so different about her. It was as though there was no fight left in her, as though she was carrying on just for the sake of it. Whatever this thing was, and whatever had happened since they had left the hospital, it had left her visibly worn down, beaten, and a part of him was sure she didn't want to carry on much longer.

She pulled the car up outside of an old building. It was a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, and he was sure they had never been there before. "What is this place?" he asked, curious.

"Home." She shrugged. "For now, at least."

Dean looked back to her. "So, what?" he pressed. "You're just moving from town to town taking these things out?"

Danielle huffed a laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. "That's how it started. I mean, that was the plan, but," She sighed, defeated. "There's so many of them. And once we think we've got them all it's like another fifty just show up out of nowhere. Truth is, we're not doing such a great job. There's no controlling this thing, Dean. We're trying but... I don't know." She pulled a hand down her face and sat back in her seat. "You should go inside. Sam's gonna want to see you."

Dean frowned at her. "What about you?" She smiled at him, as though guilty, and she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. His eyebrows raised, surprised, accusing. "I thought we'd quit that?"

"Well, it's been a rough month." she muttered, nonchalant. "Go, Dean. Go see Sam."

Dean opened and closed his mouth, he looked torn. He knew that she was hurting, and he knew that she wanted to be alone to do it. But could he really leave her to hurt alone? It was something he had never been able to do. There was a look in her eyes that begged him, pleaded with him to get out of the car. It was one cigarette, five minutes of her time, who was he to deny her five minutes alone?

Reluctant, he nodded. "I'll see you in a minute."

Danielle smiled, kind. "Go see your brother." she coaxed. "I'll be right in."


End file.
